


short story 11-9-2017

by orphan_account



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 04:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13263528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	short story 11-9-2017

No one really expected much from a black girl with platinum blonde hair. They often thought of her as ghetto or strange because of her unusual hair color. But all it took was a few words. Words that dropped out of her mouth like honey into tea A french accent so strong yet so subtle. Not obnoxious but sultry, sexy, loud enough to call attention to herself in a crowded room. But only the attention of those who were weak, those who allow themselves to be persuaded by lust and temptation. Maybe her voice or the mere sight of her drew them into a longing gaze. Her waist small but hips wide. Her chest, well. We shouldn’t get too detailed, one could use their imagination.

 

To add to her beauty she had charm and the powers of a telepath. To control minds, to be able to persuade people to do things that suited her fancy. Or possibly read the minds of those who decided it would be wise to lie to her. She always knew the truth, no matter how deep in your mind you decided to bury it.

Her name? Well she often changed it depending on her target. Some days she was Maya Ink from small town Kentucky. Other days she was Nalgene Woods from a small town outside of Hollywood. Sometimes she was a model studying neurology abroad in some private school in Madrid. Or she may be a poor girl working her way through community college, an exotic dancer in her spare time. She may tell you she is an undercover therapist who confronts cheating spouses at nightclubs in one breath and then talk about how she is a struggling poet and needs a place to stay for the evening in the next.

The point is, you can’t trust her. You have to fight it in yourself when you feel her claws wrap around the skin of your neck or drawing you close by the hem of your collar. You have to remember who is in control when her mind becomes your own and she’s forcing you to pull out your wallet and give her every last penny in your possession. You can’t be weak around women like herself. You have to stand tall, stand strong, be able to differentiate her thoughts from your own.

And the strange thing is, all it could take was one person to stop her.

Stevely Johnson was no average man. He had money, but not enough money for pride to override his sane thoughts. He knew how to spend it, not waste it on luxury cars and homes. He lived a simple life for a man who was constantly climbing the ladder to becoming the CEO of his company. A sporting good company. Nothing to blink an eye at, beside his paycheck that even people with several college degrees could dream of. Sports is where the money is, and that’s just how it goes.

He met Amelie at a work party. She sported a gold jumpsuit that somehow seemed to stick out like a yellow rose in a field of reds. Despite other’s in the room sporting gold accessories, she stood out. Maybe it was her doing. Who knew. She may have the power to possess the minds of the hundreds of people in this conference hall. But despite the attention being on her, it was Stevely who seemed to be the one brave enough to approach her.

“Stevely,” he began, offering her a drink he had taken from a waitress’ tray. “Stevely Johnson, nice to meet you.” He bowed slightly, a bit outdated since it was 2017 and no one seemed to do that anymore. But call him old fashion. He didn’t seem to mind. 

“Amelie,” she said without taking her attention off the man she had set her sights on for the evening. The man she had been planning to bed and steal from for months. All it took was for them to be in the same room and finally, Amelie had her chance.

“Care for a drink?” Stevely asked, turning to face where she had been staring at. Trying to be as sly as possible to limit the rejection he had faced himself for.

“Sure.” And with that, her own empty glass was dropped to the floor. A quiet crash startling the few people who stood by them, but seemed to alert the entire facility. All eyes were on them as Amelie took her time drinking the glass of wine in her hand. A few drops pouring down her chin and onto the gold fabric of her jumpsuit. It didn’t land however, the droplet of wine pouring down her and onto the floor like it was her own blood.

With a blink of an eye, all the attention that was on her was gone. Besides Stevely of course. Who she seemed to not be able to get through.

“Why are you still here,” she asked, shooting a glare at the man who stood beside her. Although it stopped in its tracks as she actually took a good look at him.Stevely was handsome to say the least. Around 6’3 or so, shortish brown hair that seemed to be swooped back with some minimal hair gel. He looked mature, with light brown skin that darkened in the sun. He had the aura of a super-being, but with a few moments of sorting through his memories, Amelie realized he was only human. “...actually… stay. You look interesting.”  
Stevely was at a lost for words for that one. “He wasn’t usually one with the ladies, mostly keeping to himself outside of work affairs. His weekends usually consisted of him slaving hours hunched over his computer playing video games or writing the book trilogy he had been writing for the past few years. Something he rather not get into, not wanting to seem like even more a nerd than he already was. 

“I-uh. Sure. Yeah. Okay.” He stammered, biting his bottom lip gently as she took his hand and lead him towards a group of rather wealthy CEOs. He tried his best to keep up and not trip over his feet or bumping into people. 

Eventually, he snapped out of his dazed facade. Yanking his hand out of her grip. Using his free one to take a hold of her own. 

“Hey, where the hell are you taking me. You can’t just take some stranger anywhere without telling him first. At least buy me a drink,” a small smirk was pulling at his lips as he spoke though. Not trying to seem to angry despite the grip on her forearm. 

“Just shut up and follow me,” she spoke, tilting her head slightly to glance at him. In her head, she attempted to command him to give into her wish and do as she said, but something was just not clicking. She couldn’t control him no matter how hard she tried.

“No, I don’t even know who you are, I don’t know where you’re taking me. And frankly, you’re acting rather suspicious and you don’t have a business card title badge like the rest of us.” Stevely gestured to the badge that sat above the pocket of his suit. 

“Even if I were to tell you why I was here, there is nothing you can do to stop me,” she said with a roll of her eyes, tugging at her hand in his grip, which in turn, caused him to hold her a bit harder.

“Is that a promise?” He questioned, his perfectly sculpted eyebrow raising. “Or is that a threat?”

Amelie tugged harder, eventually giving up as she realized there was no getting out of this one, and she really didn’t want to cause a scene because suddenly, she had no energy to use her abilities to turn the attention away from her. Stevely’s grip had loosened by the time he realized how frail she had become.

“What… what was in that drink you gave me?” She asked, her voice quiet as she spoke, stumbling a bit before slumping onto the taller man.

“I- I don’t know. I thought it was wine! I just got it on one of the server trays!” He replied, a bit too quickly, due to the fact he was freaking out. Trying his best to not make a scene. “Hey, hey please don’t pass out on me, I really don’t need some random girl passing out on me, it’s really bad press, it’s-.” Her body felt heavier against him by the time he spoke.   
Great.  
-

It was 3 PM on a Sunday evening when Amelie woke up from from her 17 and a half hour nap. Her head was spinning like a merry-go-round, her throat felt dry and rusty like some old pipes of an abandoned factory. The hair that was pulled back in a high ponytail was now scattered around her like chips on a poker table. The smell of Italian food filled her nostrils as she sat up and glanced around the room she had been put in. It wasn’t light enough to be a hospital nor dark enough to be hell. It seemed like, it was the room of someone. Someone who was really into video games from the posters that hung throughout the room. As well as the multiple game consoles that set underneath the flat screen TV the size that would make a few football dad’s jealous.

“Hello?” She called out as she slowly got out of bed. Trying not to bother her spinning head too much. Amelie glanced down at herself, not wearing the clothes she had been sporting the night before. Instead, it was an oversize T-shirt that fell to her knees. Probably belonged to whoever’s house she found herself in.

She eventually found herself in the living room of the house. Admiring the modern decor of the establishment. It was nice, nerdy yet tacky. Reminded her a lot of the brother she had when she was younger.

Before they were taken away from her.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He called from the kitchen, bringing her a tray of food that looked somewhat homemade. Well, not heated up from the freezer homemade. “You’ve been out for hours, have no idea what the hell happened to you. It was kind of freaky actually,” he trailed off, looking at her. She looked quite different with smudged makeup and the lack of gold on her. “I… uh. Made you something, you must be hungry after sleeping for almost 20 hours.”

“20 WHAT?” She exclaimed, her eyebrows in her hairline.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I tried to wake you up at 9, you weren’t budging.” He attempted to bring his hand up in defense, but the tray got in the way of it, internally smacking himself in the face for being so dumb.

“Where is, what, why…” she paused herself, taking a deep breath. “What happened last night.”

“Uh,” he began, setting the tray down. “I met you at the Barwin Banquet last night, got you some wine that you drank in one sip, not sure how you did that, it was a lot of wine..” he joked, laughing rather awkwardly. “Um… oh yeah. You passed out and I didn’t want to make a scene so I brought you to my place and let you sleep on my bed for the night-ish. Well. I guess morning too. Uh, either way I wasn’t sleeping with you, I took the couch. And you’re probably wondering what happened to your expensive clothing. I kind of, helped you out of it and put one of my old shirts on you because it looked too expensive to be sleeping in.” He finished with a small grin, arms awkwardly coming up to fold over his chest. 

“My stuff,” she really didn’t seem to be listening, despite her hearing every word.”

“What?”

“Where is my stuff?”

“Oh,” he walked past her into his room, grabbing the pile of clothing along with the purse she held last night. “I charged your phone for you. Didn’t go through it, I promise.” 

Amelie took her belongs, setting it aside before making her way to the kitchen. “So you cook huh,” she began, taking the fork and stabbing a piece of shrimp that sat on the plate. “It smells lovely,” taking a bite, she paused to relish the taste, her head tilting slightly as she realized how good it actually was. “Not… not bad uh… what is your name again?”

“Stevely,” he paused for a moment, debating if he wanted to tell a stranger his full name. “Stevely Johnson,” he didn’t care.

“You’re uh. You work for Under Armour, right?” She asked with a strand of pasta falling to her chin. She usually was a clean eater, but she didn’t realize how hungry she had been until food was brought into the conversation.

“How do you know that?”

“Name tag.”

“O-oh,” dumbfounded, he ran a hand through his hair. It needed a wash, not urgently but it was getting there. “So… why were you there?”

“What.”

“Why were you at the party? You didn’t have a badge or anything.”

“Business.”

“What kind of business?”

“Business you had no part of.”

“Shit, well…”

“Look Stevely, you’re a nice guy and I don’t want to you get involved in the things I manage to get myself in. Just keep to sucking up to CEOs and I’m sure you’ll be one of them in no time.”

At a lost for words, Stevely sighed. Nodding as he walked past her to check on the cookies in the oven. Baking, another one of his passions he was always good at, no matter the pastry. “Sorry,” he eventually muttered, bringing the tray of cookies to sit next to the tray of food she hunched herself over. “I made sugar cookies, they need to set and be iced if you want to stick around for that. I’m sure you have things to do that don’t involve judging every piece of furniture in this house. And yes, I see you.”

It was Amelie’s turn to be at a lost for words. Not really used to men, or really anyone being able to talk to her in whatever way they wanted. But then again, she was usually able to control the way people spoke to her.

“Are you…” she began, wiping her mouth from the sauce that fell on her lips. “Special?”

“What?” He questioned, cocking his head slightly.

“As in, super-.” She sighed herself, closing her eyes as she walked towards him. Her hand pressing against his forehead. Her last resort for when she wasn’t able to clearly read someone’s mind. 

It was blank, or black. As if he had some sort of psychic block that prevented telepaths from reading him.

Shit.  
Amelie near jumped away from him. The lock of horror on her face could be scene from a mile away.

“You, you, YOU DRUGGED ME!” She roared at him, the room beginning to shake. Almost like there was an earthquake, except they could only feel it. Many of those who were supernatural knew that earthquakes were never caused by the shift of the earth, but instead, the wrath of a mutant with a mind strong enough to convince the world to its doom. Amelie being one of the few powerful ones, or at least one of the few known ones. The sound of glass shattering could be heard over the rumble. Stevely grabbed onto the nearest surface, ducking down and covering his head with his free hand.

“Drugged? What? No! No, I would never. I literally just grabbed the nearest glass of wine from a server when I saw you standing alone.” His voice was rushed as he spoke, pausing to catch his breath, well. To attempt to calm down so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself and make her more upset. “You, you caught my eye. I wanted to befriend you, not.. Well… you know.”

“Then why the HELL did I pass out?”

“I-I… I don’t know.”

She paused, taking a deep breath to attempt to calm herself down. Despite her not being able to read his true intentions, she could tell by the sound of his voice that he had no part of this. It was probably, or well. Most likely SASS, a nickname for the organization that had been trying to capture her and a few other powerful telepaths for the past few years now. She had met face to face with them, in their last attempt to capture her. Their plan was to use them to control the world, make all of the world leaders fear them. But despite how morally wrong Amelie was, she could never stoop so low. She had better things to do with her time.

“Fine,” she finally spoke after a few moments of thinking to herself. Reaching down to grab at her phone.

‘5:36, 6 new text messages’

She looked through the messages, just a few shameful past lovers she ignored. And, an unknown number. It looked like it came from a phone you could buy at the gas station.

‘Beware, we’re closer than you think Cox.’

This wasn’t the first time she had gotten a message like that, but that didn’t stop the pang in her stomach that caused her to lean against the counter, her grip on the surface tightening to the point in where her knuckles were near white. Her eyes closed as she reached for the glass of water that sat beside her.

“You.. you okay?” Stevely asked cautiously, trying not to say anything that would anger her.  
“Hm..” she trailed off, walking towards a nearby window to open it. Sticking her head out to get some fresh air that wasn’t tangled with the scent of Italian food. “I’m fine,” a pause. “Do you know your neighbors?”

“Uh… not really. Only the one downstairs. Some guy who works at night, he looks like he delivers things, always has some big white truck somewhere on the block. Real nice guy, he’s saved me from getting a few parking tickets.”

“Name.”

“What?”

“What is his NAME?”

“Oh uh. He tells me to call him Randsome. Not sure of his last name, it’s not even on his mailbox.”

“Shit,” the name was familiar. Too familiar for her liking. Over hearing it from one of the guards the last time she was captured. Amelie slumped against the window, looking up at the evening sky, silently counting to herself so she wouldn’t cause a disturbance in the area. Her anxiety usually lead to fallen trees or light post. Or even a crack in the earth, it really depended on how anxious she felt.  
“Shit? That sounds bad, is he some killer or sociopath or somethi-.”

“Shut up,” she intruded, standing up and pacing around the room. “Just shut up.”

He brought his hand over his mouth to stop himself from continuing. Amelie closed her eyes, trying to read the minds of those in a 1 mile radius. It took some time, and a lot of concentration, but she eventually found him. Randy Owensome, or Randsome as his friends would call him, a community college dropout who somehow found himself in SASS, she never understood why. He was a smart, somewhat handsome man who had the potential to become a doctor. School wasn’t for everyone apparently, but neither was crime. For an organization that wanted to capture powerful telepaths, it would be wise for everyone that worked at the organization, to be immune to telepaths. 

The woman got up, making her way to the kitchen to pick up a cookie. Taking a bite as she looked through the drawers for a few choiced knives of various sizes and sharpness. Setting them all on the table to admire. 

“What are you do-.”

“Shut up.” She spoke so simply, taking off her shirt and using one of the knives to cut and design it into a tight fitting dress. Amelie had always had a sense for fashion, despite never going to school for it. It came naturally look water from a spring.   
Sure, a half naked woman with a knife in her hand would usually scare other men. But Stevely couldn’t help but be amazed, trying his best not to show it however. Using this opportunity of her lack of attention to ice the sugar cookies that had finished cooling. Setting them on a platter for them to set. 

A few moments later, Amelie emerged from one of the bathrooms, the formally oversized t-shirt with the outdated rock band logo had transformed into a beautiful white dress that hugged her curves in just the right ways. It was short, but she didn’t seem to care. She could just steal one of his jackets. 

“I should get going, it’s getting late.” She eventually spoke, finding a bag to put her stuff in. Her phone in her hand.

“Uh, you don’t have to. You can stay another night, it’s getting late and this neighborhood isn’t the nicest at nig-.”

“I can handle myself, I’m not some child.”

Stevely’s hands were held up in protest, taking a step back. “My bad, didn’t mean to be-.”

“It’s whatever.”

“Uh, at least take some cookies to go, I uh. Didn’t know what kind of frosting you would like so I made a few of each.” Held up was a medium sized tupperware bowl filled with cookies. She stared at the them for a moment before walking towards him. Setting the bag of her stuff on the empty countertop. She took a hold of the bag, using her free hand to draw him close by the collar of his shirt. 

“Wh-.”

Oh.

Oh.

Amelie’s lips found his own for a sweet kiss. Her hand moving to rest on the nape of his neck. She seemed to be enjoying this more than he was. It was rare for her to meet a man of his age and status who didn’t act like a complete slob. She has had her fair share of disgusting kisses she had attempted to erase from her memory. 

It didn’t register to him he was kissing one of the most beautiful women he will ever meet in his life. By the time he had come to terms with it, she was pulling away. Dumbfounded, he quickly grabbed her wrist, urging her back to return the favor. This time, with a bit more passion on his end. And for once, she didn’t protest. Usually responding to these kind of action with a slap or a knife in one’s side. His lips were comforting like an old lover she hasn’t seen in years. 

Eventually she pulled away, panting quietly under her breath. She shook her head, grabbing her stuff as well as the rather generous gift. And while he was still dazed, one of his jackets that hung on a hook by the door and a few of the knives that sat on the kitchen countertop.

“I’ll see you around Stevely.” She finally spoke, snapping him out of his trance.

“Huh?” He jerked back slightly, hitting his head a bit harder than intended against one of the cabinets. “Oh, shit… I mean,” he straightened up, rubbing the back of his head gently. “Yeah, wai-.”

And she was gone, without a trace.

 

It was 3 in the morning when Stevely was awaken by the rather loud knocking on his front door. With a groan, he slowly got up, making his way towards the noise. Rubbing at his eyes gently to get the sand out. His free hand opening the door.

“Are you Stevely Johnson?” A police officer asked, surrounded by a few other officers, a look of desperation could be scene on all of their faces. Suddenly, he was aware of the blue and white flashing lights from the kitchen window, a bit more aware of his surroundings.

“Uh, yeah. What happened?”

“There was a murder downstairs, and we need to ask you some questions, care to let us in?”

‘Murder, when did that happen-’ he thought to himself, pausing in his tracks.

“Uh… yeah. Sure.” He said after a long pause, stepping away from the door.

-


End file.
